Word: bistro
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...Toots") Shor, 73, Runyonesque saloonkeeper and drinking companion to the mighty and famous; of cancer; in Manhattan. Boisterous and beefy (250 lbs., 6 ft. 2 in.), Shor in his heyday would customarily quaff a bottle of brandy a night at the 54-ft. circular bar of his original Manhattan bistro. "Drinkin', that's my way of prayin'," he would say. Shor was a star-struck sports fan, and his friends ranged from the Duke of Windsor to Joe DiMaggio, from Chief Justice Earl Warren to Mobster Frank Costello. Generous and impulsive, he once dropped more than...
After these, and beyond hope of cataloguing, everyone has his own favorite, relatively inexpensive bistro (one might be Chez Napoleon, 365 W. 50th St.). Chinatown almost requires a special course of study, in which the thoughts of Chairman Mao will not help, but the best midtown Chinese restaurant is Pearl's (38 W. 48th St.), where the acoustics are so bad you cannot hear yourself talk (but who wants...
...sure sign of jazz's new vitality is the recent proliferation of clubs. In San Francisco, the Keystone Korner, El Matador and the Great American Music Hall are jumping nightly with finger snappers. Boston has a floating musical bistro called Jazzboat plying the harbor on two sold-out weekly cruises. Around New Orleans' Bourbon Street the crowds wander in and out of clubs that open onto the sidewalk. They can hear anything from driving Dixieland to the attenuated sounds of progressive jazz. In New York there are more clubs than at any time since...
...head, hoped for police protection by implicating himself and a New Jersey father and son in the killing. Rodriguez described with professional precision how the son, deftly disguised as a jogger, took aim at Cammarata as he was walking away from a North Miami bistro and drilled him with eight rounds from a .30-cal. carbine. A family man to the end, the 68-year-old Sicilian told the gathering crowd, "Don't call the police. I will be O.K.," and died...
...well-publicized exception to dignified behavior, an invasion of all-male drinking territory, washed out completely. When four female journalists plunked down a five-pound note and demanded drinks at the bar of El Vino, a Fleet Street bistro, they were rebuffed. Righto, said one veteran equal-rights advocate, female novelist Storm Jameson, who fired off a letter to the London Times calling the quartet "damnably undignified and ill bred...